


Mr Sandman, Bring Me A Dream

by AsgardianElf



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Avengers - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Cutting, Depression, I tried to not make it too explicit, M/M, Near-death Experiences, Past Suicide Attempts, Recovery, Self Harm, Suicidal Ideation, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-31 01:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15109364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsgardianElf/pseuds/AsgardianElf
Summary: The dark side of Tony Stark, and the dream that was Steve Rogers.Basically a journey of Tony's life from birth; surrounding his depression, self harm, and other bad things in his life. Until Steve, of course.





	1. Make Him The Cutest That I've Ever Seen

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely inspired by the song, Mr Sandman, specifically the cover by SYML. Please forgive me if there are any incorrect details, I tried my best to get things correct!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We won." Steve had said, and in that moment, his blue eyes and bright smile became Tony's world.

The sad fact of the matter was, Tony Stark had been here before. Staring down the barrel of a gun was what he did; day in, day out, everyday of his life. Figuratively, of course. Well, sort of. Most of his life recently had been almost facing death.

The arc reactor had been birthed from death and necessity. The shrapnel had almost killed him - some would say it was a wake up call for the billionaire. But you could guarantee that anyone who thought that didn't know Tony well. For it was not the first time the great Tony Stark had been at death's door.

He was 13, when the depression was controlling more of his life than he. 13, when he suffered silently within the confines of his room. 13, and he had no one. His parents were alive, they were present, but not there. His father was preoccupied with the company - Tony still wouldn't understand it when he took it over - and his mother may have been there, but Tony still couldnt share it with her.

Not long after the spiral began, he'd turned to self harm. He knew how to hide it of course, and in the end, it wasnt that difficult. Soon, cuts littered his thighs and stomach. Slashes upon slashes he lay upon his body. The pain had bothered him at first, but he guessed that was the point. The pain gave him clarity, even just for a moment. He craved that moment where his brain was silent. It got worse, and everytime he thought the storm was over, it would get worse.

He was 17 when he first tried to kill himself. He was at MIT by then, surrounded by people taking the same courses, yet feeling even more lonely than he had at home. He no longer remembers what set him off. That memory was easily forgotten, what followed, not as easy. He had been hours into cutting his thighs - long, deep slashes, bleeding furiously over the bathroom tiles - when he decided it wasn't enough. It didn't feel right anymore, living. He had been suffering for so long, and was he really worthy of the life he had been given? He couldn't do it anymore. He'd had enough.

The kitchen knife had been easy enough to grab; an upgrade from the razor blade that was his previous comfort. The blade was cold, the tiles colder. His mind clawed at him. He wanted it. At least, that's what it told him. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, knife in hand. He took a deep breath, and another, and another. He pushed the knife deep into his left arm, crying out in pain. He pulled it up towards his elbow. A long, jagged wound followed. He created an identical one on his other arm, this one more messy. He felt his body slump to the tiles below, his face admiring his work. It had been easier than he expected. His life had been in his hands his entire life, and he'd finally done something with that autonomy.

Rhodey was the one who found him. He thanked God he wasn't dead yet. Tony's body clung to life, but he'd been slipping, slipping, slipping... Rhodey had wrapped his arms with whatever he had found, Tony had always been fuzzy on the details. He did remember his friend taking him to the hospital, and the sound of the siren, the white walls, the bright lights, then nothing until the next day. Whatever had happened, he was still alive. And however much Rhodey has wanted to talk about it, Tony refused to discuss that day. And Rhodey had stopped asking, his head shaking with frustration and disbelief the last time the question had come out of his mouth. Tony would see him glance at the long scars on his arms every so often, though.

He wore long sleeves after that.

He went a few years without a serious incident. Of course, there were the times he had cut too far, too deep, where stopping the blood became a priority over the pain. Or when he purchased a gun for the sole purpose of achieving a quick and merciful death. Not that he deserved that, he had told himself. He remembered his heartbeat getting higher everytime he came close to death, but it was never enough. And soon he had survived 21 years, unsure but alive. Until their death.

It was mainly a shock. He had felt numb for days, everyone's voices cold and far away. Rhodey had tried; tried to reach out to him. Pepper too. Obadiah, of course, pretended to, but was more interested in what he would inherit. Tony didn't know that of course, at the time. Regardless, he had ignored all of them, collapsing in on himself as he mourned the death of his parents. Mourned; through tears from crying himself to sleep, blood through punching the walls and slicing his legs, through alcohol as he descended further and further into his addication. He had never craved death as much as he had in those moments, and each drink made him feel closer to his grave. And he'd liked it. He had the audacity to want to die as he mourned his parents. That sort of thinking made his guilt worse, of course, and things looked grim.

The numbness came back, though. Eventually. Through time and repression and fighting against himself. And the cutting. So much cutting. He'd dug a hole in the deepest, darkest part of his soul and put every emotion surrounding his parent's death there. He built up a barrier, created his façade, and the playboy was born. He was good again, sort of.

 _"Good in the eyes of the public,"_ Tony remembered Obadiah saying, as if the public was the most important.

Afghanistan was another shock. He was at death's door again; pieces of shrapnel were inching ever closer to his heart. He was ever closer to his death. He wasn't sure why he fought so hard to live, back then. Even to this day, Tony Stark couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he'd wanted to live after coming so close to dying. Perhaps, he had once pondered, it was because everything else had seemed so small. His home life seemed almost nonexistent in the long, arduous days he spent working for the terrorists. Perhaps, he'd thought another time, it was Yinsen that he fought for, because that man fought for his life, and why the hell shouldn't he do the same?

He created the first Iron Man suit in Afghanistan, at a point in his life where he wasn't sure he would survive. So it made sense he threw himself into his work, ever perfecting the design. It was never done of course. And every enemy created another necessity. He felt needed for once, despite fighting for his life (and others) every time a villain came around. Obadiah's betrayal had stung, but he'd gotten past it.

The palladium in his arc reactor forced him to face death once more. He treated it recklessly, shrugging it off. He was fine, he would tell everyone. In his mind, he wasn't concerned. If he died, he died. He had gradually started caring less and less about his own death, no longer as alive as he once been. Until of course, he actually faced death. Ironic, that it was the only thing that made him feel alive, the moments before he would fade from existence. It wasn't long before he solved that problem too. Another way the universe had tried to kill him, and another way he had survived. It was a vicious cycle, and he wouldn't admit how bad he had gotten.

The depression was swallowing him whole, anxiety a vicious friend tearing at his mind. He never stopped cutting, through all of it. The scars had begun to criss cross, faded ones no longer deserving a place by itself. If it wasn't red anymore, it wasn't long before Tony would put another mark on top of it. This was still his secret. Rhodey had presumably forgotten, or thought Tony was past it. He still worried of course, he always worried about him. But never specifically about that. And nobody else knew, about the scars. Nobody else knew how much Tony savoured each one. Nobody else knew how numb he had become to the pain, and how he cut a little bit deeper every time he thought he wasn't feeling anything. Nor did anyone know how often it was. The world knew nothing, the universe watched on, and Tony crumbled from the inside.

In those times, Tony had only dreamed about improving. He had a fictional life, where his parents were alive, where he talked to Rhodey, where he'd gotten help. It would've seemed odd to others on the outside; how could a billionaire not be happy? What else could a billionaire want? He has everything, they would think. He needs nothing. Yet Tony spent hours in the back of his mind, longing for something more. He did so while he worked, while he drove, while he flew. When he saved people, it wasn't there as much, but he still imagined how different his origins could've been. Everyone had created this ego around him, but the fact was, the only thing Tony liked about himself was Iron Man. That was all that mattered. Especially to the public. And weren't they the most important? _Good in the eyes of the public_ , but not good in the eyes of himself.

2012 arrived sooner than Tony expected it to. Loki had come to earth, stolen the tesseract, and planned world domination. Tony had become numb to these scenarios; it was his job to help. He could understand the science of the issue, he knew the math. He knew about the tesseract, and it's significance. What he didn't know, was how to interact with a team. He'd spent his life shutting people out, how could he possibly let them in? His manner became his shield, and his façade grew stronger. He would do this, for the world, of course. Didn't mean he did it well.

When he first met Steve Rogers, it was if the world stopped.

Tony had almost stopped at the sight of him, but of course he kept going, he maintained the lie of himself that he served to people on a daily basis. Cocky. Snarky. Maybe even rude. He felt inadequate next to Rogers. Tony was never enough for his father, not when he had helped create Captain America? A man who's heart was pure, who surrounded himself with justice and righteousness? He was inadequate, definitely; he would never reach the potential Rogers had. He would never be that good. He knew that.

The night he met the love of his life, Tony contemplated suicide again.

The arrival of the end of the world had been swift, and he cared about his team more than he wanted to admit. Romanoff he knew, of course; frustrated at her lies but he could get over that. He wanted to impress her, but not flirtatiously. Perhaps he was yearning for another friend. Odinson, he didn't know much about, but he had sympathy for the situation with his brother. Mostly. Barton he barely knew. Banner, he had gotten along with very quickly, and his heart tugged at his words: _I've already tried_. Banner and him were the same, but for different reasons. And Rogers...he'd grown to care about him in a different way. A way he thought he had repressed long ago. Of course Tony had responded poorly, picking fights with him. He was frustrated at how perfect he was, and how meaningless he felt when he was near him. But they had their moments, where they worked together, or saved the helicarrier, or shared a brief smile passing in the hallway. The mutual feeling of grief they shared through eye contact when Coulson died. So, with all of those people he cared about, and all the people in the world he didn't, it didn't take long for him to decide to sacrifice himself.

 _A one way trip_ , Rogers had called it. Tony had almost laughed. That's what death was, wasn't it? A one way trip? Yes, Tony had almost died, and yes, he hadn't, but in his eyes he'd never really begun the "trip". And now, the call of death was there once again. He felt this was a better death than the ones he'd almost experienced, because at least he would die doing some good. And when he died, he would be free of all this...responsibility. It was not hard, choosing to take the missile into space.

 _"The only thing you really fight for is yourself,"_ Rogers had told him. _"You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play."_

Rogers learned how wrong he was that day. Tony almost didn't make it, and had fainted from lack of oxygen as he tumbled back to earth. Space had almost kept him, if not for the small hole he had fallen through before it closed. Tony believed it was over, when he closed his eyes. He would finally get what he had longed for. Over half his life he had wanted this. But a loud yell from the Hulk had woken up him up again. He had taken in quick, shallow breaths, his mind racing to fill in the gaps of time he had just lost. He remembered his gaze settling on Rogers.

 _"We won."_ Steve had said, and in that moment, his blue eyes and bright smile became Tony's world.

After the fight, and the food, and everything else, Tony had insisted they all returned to his tower. The majority of the Avengers, the world's mightiest heroes slept well that night. Tony did not. He stared at his ceiling for hours, his eyes burning; he was too numb and exhausted to shut them. It was 2am when he got up, and sat on the step Loki had surrendered on less than 24 hours earlier. He had been surprised to hear Steve come out to join him, and the two had sat in silence for awhile, gazing out at the city before them. The city they had just saved. Together.

 _"No sleep?"_ Tony had asked.

 _"I slept for 70 years. I think I've had my fill."_ Steve had replied. _"What about you?"_

 _"I don't often get sleep."_ _Because of nightmares_ , he'd almost added. _Because of the way I want to tear off my skin for not doing well enough._

Tony had gone to that specific room to remind him of their success earlier yesterday. For the first time, he hadn't want to cut, and he felt going there would help his cause. He was right, but for the wrong reasons. It wasn't the reminder that quieted his darkest thoughts. It was Steve.

 _Steve_ , with his bright blue eyes. _Steve_ , with his lips, like roses and clover. _Steve_ , with the way he cared about the world Tony had long since given up on.

_Steve._

The two had made eye contact, and Tony had glanced at his lips, hoping it wasn't obvious. For Steve, it was, but little did he know he had been thinking the same thing. The two of them sat there for awhile; the soldier from a different time, and the billionaire who craved death. They were so different from each other, but neither one of them had pulled away when Tony placed a hand on Steve's cheek. Neither of them pulled away as it felt like some other force pulled them together. Neither of them pulled away as they kissed.

It wasn't long, wasn't passionate, but for Tony, it was enough.

In that moment, Tony wasn't so lonely anymore.


	2. Tell Him That His Lonely Nights Are Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, he appreciated exactly how beautiful New York's skyline was. He closed his eyes, breathed in the fresh air, and took in the sounds of the city. He loved this feeling. He only had one thing on his mind. 
> 
> And that was Steve.
> 
> Of course, it couldn't last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I loved writing it, and I tried to add more fluff. Hope you enjoy!

Tony never could allow himself good things for long.

He'd struggled with it his whole life. Meaning, purpose...and the feeling that he never deserved anything. It howled at his mind like an absent wind, ever present, waiting. It got stronger when he felt happy. What a cruel way to live, he'd thought when he first noticed it. Over time, it had mattered less. Tony had internalised the message. He'd believed it, and pushed those who cared about him away. He'd done it with Pepper, numerous times, and had almost lost Rhodey because of it. Thankfully, Rhodey had the common sense to understand. Well, maybe not understand. At least he forgave.

The same thoughts scratched at him again, a few night after he'd kissed Steve. And Steve had kissed back. That latter part was what had surprised Tony. He was happy of course, mostly. But no matter how happy he was, he could never keep the thoughts out of his head for long enough.

 _You don't deserve him. You don't matter. He's worth ten of you. You mean nothing to him. How could you think you were good enough for him?_ They circled in his head like a broken record. Tony didn't sleep well for a few nights. Steve noticed.

 _"Big man in a suit of armour. Take that off, what are you?"_ Tony didn't know.

That year was a particularly tough one for Tony. They were all difficult, of course, when you have a mind like his. But this one had lots of external problems. There was Loki, and his plot to take over the city. There was also the so-called "Mandarin", and Aldrich Killian, and something called extremis. He'd pushed Pepper further away with his creation of the Iron Legion, and he couldn't help but wonder if he'd done it on purpose. If he was self-sabotaging all his relationships. Did he deserve any of them?

His relationship was Pepper had always been fragile though. The two shared a dangerous, flirty dance. Tony didn't feel emotionally invested in a romantic relationship, just an odd platonic one. He'd realised that rather late in life. In his younger days, Tony couldn't help but flirt with almost every women he met. It hid his pain, and one night stands became a coping mechanism. Soon it had become part of his character. That was, of course, he accepted that he was gay. He'd struggled with internalised homophobia for years, mostly inspired by his father. It was difficult, and he felt as if he could never express it.

With Steve of course, it was different. He was surprised the soldier didn't have any homophobic beliefs, though he suspected it would've been hard to think of gay people that way if you were one of them. But Steve was amazing. Tony kept in touch with him, more than any of the other Avengers. They didn't realise this of course. Neither did the public. The latter was not aware of their relationship for most of the time it happened. The Avengers were too busy to take notice. But, they had spent enough time together already dealing with saving the world. Even superheroes needed a break. For Tony and Steve, Loki had been a victory, and with his return to Asgard both men felt their world was safer. And they'd celebrated. In the quiet of midnight, they spent nights together, savouring whatever it was they felt. They'd struck a chord with each other, a melodious one, that resonated within themselves. Tony felt at peace for awhile.

He'd loved the way Steve's hand felt when they ran over his skin. The way they ruffled his hair. He'd craved the gentle touch of Steve holding his cheek in place as he kissed him. He loved when Steve would pick him up so it was easier for him to reach. Kissing while sitting would have been easier, but Tony loved wrapping his hands around Steve's neck, and feeling the man's strong hands at his waist.

Steve did not judge, did not scold, did not tire of Tony. After spending a few nights together Steve had asked Tony about his scars. Tony supposed he should've started from the beginning, but that was a story for another time, he'd thought. Steve, somehow, had understand. Tony didn't know that later he'd used to the internet to help him understand more, to sympathise with him. He'd had a perfect response the first time, regardless of ignorance. Steve had stroked his thighs softly; his hands had hovered over the new ones for a particularly long time. Tony had felt ashamed at first, but Steve had looked into his eyes. His gentle gaze and clumsy smile had softened Tony's feelings about himself. For awhile. And that had been enough for Tony.

That Christmas, Tony had gotten his shrapnel removed.

Pepper thought it had been her badgering, her insistence at helping her friend. In reality, it had been Steve. Tony knew the technology to remove his constant death threat was available, but he didn't feel ready. He used to think he'd want a way out. That the shrapnel was the universe's way of providing him an escape route, if any of the other paths proved to tough for the man to follow. Truthfully, Tony had come to see it as part of his identity. He'd conflated the idea of his state of dying at any moment with the Iron Man suit. With Iron Man himself. Steve helped him realise that he was Iron Man, not the shrapnel. Tony Stark had said it once, but the next time he'd whispered it to himself, he felt like he meant it. It reverberated in his bones.

_"I am Iron Man."_

They'd had a whole year together. For the two of them, 2013 had been surprisingly quiet. Peaceful. Steve stayed over more and more, until he'd practically forgotten about the apartment he was renting. Tony didn't feel as inclined to work anymore. His smile wasn't as rare of a sight. When Rhodey visited, although Tony was secretive about what had changed, he'd simply smiled, taken his friend by the shoulder, and told him to hold on to whatever was making him this happy. Tony had smiled back, and thanked him. Not just for this, but for everything.

The past was becoming easier to deal with. Night after night, Tony would offer up a peace of it to Steve, who gladly reciprocated. Some nights they would stay up til dawn, muttering stories of past memories to each other. Tony hadn't realised it before, but he did have some happy memories. His childhood with his mother, the laughs he'd shared with Rhodey, his first kiss, first dance, first boyfriend. As much as he loved sharing though, listening to Steve was even better. Tony would enjoy resting his head on the man's chest, feeling the vibrations as he talked about his life before the serum. Steve's eyes would light up when he talked about Bucky, and Peggy, and the fights he would get into. Tony had laughed at some of them. At first, imagining Steve as a scrawny young man had been difficult, until he'd been told about the fact he still often picked fights. And that he hated bullies. Now that, Tony had thought, that sounded like Steve.

Tony stopped hurting himself, in the time he spent so close to Steve. Steve noticed, of course, he noticed the lack of new red lines appearing when they would spend nights with each other. He noticed the old ones fading a little bit faster, as they weren't being interrupted. He noticed it in Tony's demeanour too. There was never a direct conversation - there didn't have to be - but Steve had smiled to himself every time he saw the evidence of Tony's recovery.

There were relapses of course. Not big ones; just recklessness. There was evening Steve remembered clearly. Tony hadn't been focusing when he was preparing dinner, and he'd cut his hand. It wasn't deep, but it hurt. Tony hadn't felt numb recently, but watching as blood dripped onto the chopping board made him pause. He felt his heartbeat in his eyes, and his breath quickened. A faint feeling struck his chest. Steve had walked in, talking to Tony, until he looked up at him. Noticed him. Noticed the blood. His thoughts went to the worst possible situation, until common sense cleared his mind. He approached Tony slowly, mumbling soothing words. He took him by the waist, and turned him around to face him.

Steve's clumsy smile and soft kisses brought him back to earth, and Tony collapsed gently into his arms. The hug had lasted for what seemed like hours.

It took longer for Tony to notice how much better he felt since Steve. It was not a gradual realisation, and he could pin it to a single moment. After 10 months, he found himself standing on the balcony of the Avengers tower (although currently Steve and Tony were the only ones who spent time there permanently). And he found that he no longer wanted to jump. A year ago, the only thing on his mind would've been the thought of climbing over the railing and tumbling to the pavement below. Tony's mind didn't think that anymore. For the first time, he appreciated exactly how beautiful New York's skyline was. He closed his eyes, breathed in the fresh air, and took in the sounds of the city. He loved this feeling. He only had one thing on his mind.

And that was Steve.

Of course, it couldn't last forever. The universe had been cruel to Tony his entire life, and just as it had given him a lifeline, it was about to rip it out from under him. Early the next year, they were needed by the world more than ever. Not as Steve and Tony, but Captain America and Iron Man. Steve wasn't around as much. He'd been asked to go on more missions for SHIELD, and since the soldier knew nothing but selflessness and justice, he couldn't refuse. Or didn't. Tony wasn't sure anymore. He was gone for so long, at one point, he hadn't thought he'd be coming back. And then the crash of the three helicarriers was on the news. Tony prayed it wasn't Steve. He prayed he hadn't been hurt.

The universe rarely listens, but it seemed to listen to him then, as Steve returned to him. He was okay. Needless to say he had a long, confusing tale to tell, but he had returned nonetheless. The Bucky part was the most confusing. Tony didn't know how to feel. And that was when he'd first suspected their time together was beginning to crash into days and weeks rather than months. These pessimistic thoughts weren't right, at first. But Tony had distanced himself anyway, and Steve had started looking at him more sadly than he used to. His eyes didn't light up at the sight of him. They were full of pity. They both knew it; Tony was getting worse again.

Work began the most important part of his life again. While the inspiration for Ultron did come from protecting the world from aliens again, there was a single truth Tony would never admit to himself: he had wanted to protect Steve. He knew, rationally, the super soldier could look after himself, but his subconscious told another story. He'd spent too many nights waking up in a cold sweat, clutching at sheets and holding back silent screams. Steve comforted him, whispered sweet nothings to help him get back to sleep. Tony never told him what the dreams were about. He couldn't stand to say it aloud. Steve would just cuddle him until they both went back to sleep. And recently, Tony had done the same thing for Steve. He'd been having more dreams about Bucky. Tony couldn't blame him. Finding out your dead best friend was alive must've been a shock. He still felt bad he couldn't help him.

 _All the more reason to protect him_ , Tony had thought. _He's distracted. Not at the top of his game. And the world needs him. I need him._

How ironic that the thing Tony had designed to protect Steve (and the world) wound up almost tearing them apart. He would never forget their argument over Ultron, and later, their argument over Vision. They'd started in front of the other Avengers, then moved it to behind close doors. Tony wished they hadn't. It escalated quicker than either of them thought it would. Tony had tried his best to defend himself, his voice scratchy and hoarse. Tears had streamed down his cheeks, and his hands had desperately clawed his arms. Steve did not notice. He was angry, truly angry, and Tony was scared it was all over. After that, how on earth was Tony meant to explain his reasoning to Steve? How was he supposed to explain his worst fear, which had been brought alive by one of Strucker's experiments? He knew it was going to be hard to say aloud, regardless of the fight. The argument just made him bury it far away from the soldier. He'd didn't want to tell him. He was afraid it was already happening. He couldn't lose Steve.

_"Why didn't you do more?"_

When the fight against Ultron was over, a big wedge had been driven between the pair. Both Tony and Steve knew it, but the latter had suggested some time away from each other. He'd made it real, given it a voice. Tony had forced his trademark, charismatic smile, and agreed, even though it broke him. He'd always known Steve would want to find Bucky ever since he find out he alive. He'd known when Steve first told him. He also knew he couldn't compare to his life long best friend. It was only a matter of time, Tony had thought. That was why he left first, leaving Steve behind at the new avengers compound.

 _"I will miss you, Tony."_ Steve had told him, kissing him lightly on the lips before Tony left.

Tony had dreamt of that day many months after it happened. He had also dreamt of going back to Steve, but he'd felt too stupid, too selfish. He wasn't even sure Steven would want him back. He wish that Steve would call him, and spent hours staring at the phone, willing it to ring. He'd prayed for Steve's forgiveness. He'd for Steve. The universe, once again, did not reply. The guilt he felt about Steve then turned to guilt surrounding many aspects of his life, and Tony Stark once again falls into the abyss.

He'd no longer slept as much, except when he was too exhausted to do anything else. He hated dreaming, which made him avoid sleep more consistently, at a great physical toll. On the rare occasion when he did dream, he'd only seen nightmares. Death. His life seemed to be full of death. The death of his parents returned to his mind, and it crushed his soul once again. He hadn't cared as muchabout repressing the negative emotions, as he used to have Steve as his anchor. But now, he was gone. Tony felt as if every death he'd failed to prevent (even if there was nothing he could do) haunted him. He'd become destructive. and malicious. Iron Man became a villain, in his eyes. Iron Man never saved enough people. Iron Man was never enough.

_Tony Stark is never enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the sad ending! Please comment! Feel free to point out mistakes. Another chapter will be coming soon!


	3. Sandman, I'm So Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony had gripped it to his chest, and cried. Loud sobs wracked his body. His face was bleeding, his head hurt, his body ached, his arc reactor was damaged. Tony cried, and cried, and cried. He cursed the universe. He cursed his enemies. He cursed Rogers. He cursed himself. Most of all, he cursed himself.

The Sokovia Accords came to Tony like savior from heaven.

They were a solution. A good one. He would no longer have to bear the guilt alone, no longer have to punish himself for his actions. At least not as much. Tony knew he needed guidance, he could feel himself tumbling down into the dark abyss once more. This was his chance. His chance at redemption, both with the world, and with Steve. At least, that's what he'd hoped. Instead, he'd made things worse.

They'd had a huge argument the first time the Accords were discussed. And again, a month later, when they were given three days to sign. Tony considered himself lucky to have at least some people on his side, but he needed Steve. The super soldier had become everything to him, and although he hadn't slipped back to all of his bad habits thanks to Rhodey and Romanoff, it wasn't enough. Steve, in the end, disagreed. More than disagreed; he all but spat in Tony's face. And then Peggy had died. Tony felt terrible, and wanted to push the Accords out further. But he knew he couldn't do that. He wished Steve had just signed. Had just agreed. He wished Steve had just let them go back to normal, and then Tony could've helped Steve find Bucky, and grieve Peggy, and not fall into the same abyss he had when his parents died. He had no such chance. Steve had disagreed.

Fighting Steve was one of the hardest things Tony had ever done in his life. He'd brought Peter into it with the hope that he would maybe cause the super soldier to ease up a bit. It wasn't because he wanted to win, it was because he didn't know if he could hurt Steve the way he thought he might have to. He needed Steve to ease up, because he would be pulling his punches as much as he could. After all, Steve was fighting for Bucky, his friend who'd been with him longer than Tony, who made Steve's eyes light up when he talked. Tony knew he was no match, friendship or relationship wise, to Bucky.

The whole fight, anxiety constricted everything: his thoughts, his lungs, his hope. There were very few moments in which Tony was able to breathe. He felt as if he could drop dead at any moment. Near the end, an anxiety attack reared its ugly head. His punches became weaker. Heavy breaths were exhaled, and his vision blurred. He couldn't breathe. He was dying. Everything was crashing down. Steve was cruel. Bucky was better. Rhodey was hurt. He couldn't continue. So, Steve succeeded in getting away with Bucky, and Tony didn't know what to feel except guilt.

After the anxiety attack, he came to his senses, and supposed he should go after him.

It felt like a long flight. It was, of course. But for Tony it felt like a lifetime. He'd gotten lost in his thoughts, thinking about all the time he'd spent with Steve. His favourite memories were the more mundane times, where Steve didn't make him feel like a superhero, simply a good man. A man who loved another man. He remembered cooking breakfast with Steve, the smell travelling through that floor of the tower. He remembered fighting over the remote (which had ended in a makeout session, and then Steve watching his programmes because Tony was laughing too much to care). He remembered walking with Steve a few blocks in a part of town far from the tower; a few short blocks before people had noticed who they were. They'd gone to the park, too, and that had been when Tony had discovered Steve's fondness of dogs. It was another thing that made his eyes sparkle. Over time, Tony had realised that the soldier's eyes did the same thing when looking at him.

After the airport fight, Tony felt as if he would never see that ever again.

The base was eerie. That was the first thing Tony had noticed. He knew he was at the end of his rope with Rogers, and he didn't know what sort of man either of them would be when they left. He'd gone in anyway. _For the greater good_ , he'd supposed. They'd found Zemo, and soon discovered his plan was not what they first thought. The other soldiers had been killed. And there was Zemo. And there was that footage.

His parents. His mother. _Him_. James Buchanan Barnes. Rationally, of course, in some small part of his mind, Tony knew it wasn't him who had murdered his mother. It was the Winter Soldier, it was a brainwashed weapon. But Tony wasn't rational that day in Siberia. No, Tony was furious. But what Tony even more furious was the fact Rogers hadn't told him.

_"Did you know?"_

_"I didn't know it was him."_

_"Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?"_

The longest silence of his life had occurred after his question. He'd aged a thousand lifetimes after asking it. And then, Steve had replied.

_"Yes."_

Shock. Betrayal. Hurt. They're just words. Nothing can describe the way Tony felt. That one word tore apart their entire relationship. Their entire friendship. Any trust Tony had held onto for dear life had been ripped out from under him.

Tony's memory of the fight that ensued was hazy. His arc reactor had almost been torn out. No one had been pulling their punches. He could've died - he was only a man. Not a super soldier. Not even a soldier. And if Tony was honest, he wished he had died that day.

Roger's shield was worn. It was scratched, and dented, and it seemed faded in the light. After the fight, Tony picked it up and tossed it away. He kicked it, punched the wall next to it, pounded his fists on the ground. Fatigue overwhelmed his body. And then, he crawled over to the shield, the last relic of whatever he'd had with Rogers. Tony had gripped it to his chest, and cried. Loud sobs wracked his body. His face was bleeding, his head hurt, his body ached, his arc reactor was damaged. Tony cried, and cried, and cried. He cursed the universe. He cursed his enemies. He cursed Rogers. He cursed himself. Most of all, he cursed himself. How could he let this happen? What was he thinking? He didn't know. Tony cried, until he felt nothing but numbness. He cried all the rage, all the hurt, all the guilt out of his body. And then he lay there, a shell of the man he once was.

If T'Challa hadn't been there to help him get home, then he probably would've stayed there forever.

The numbness crept into his entire life, and Tony was a ghost. He'd been on autopilot for longer than he realised. A package had arrived, not long after, and all it contained was a cellphone. And a note.

_Tony,  
I’m glad you’re back at the compound, I don’t like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine. I’ve been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere - even in the Army. My faith is in people, I guess. Individuals. And I’m happy to say for the most part, they haven’t let me down. Which is why I can’t let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but - maybe they shouldn’t. I know I hurt you Tony. I guess I thought - by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but… I can see now I was really sparing myself. I’m sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you were only doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do, it’s all any of us should. So no matter what, I promise if you - if you need us. If you need me, I’ll be there._

Tony had cried again that night. And again, the next. The note ended up with lots of wet patches along the bottom - he was careful of course, to not get the words. They seemed to echo in his mind throughout the day. Constantly. He could hear Rogers say his name at every door, every corner, every window. It was almost too much.

He stayed away from others, for awhile. He ignored almost everyone. But Rhodey was there, at the compound, by his side. Rhodey had been improving, and found that as he did, Tony did too. Smiles came back into his life. Soon, laughter. Rhodey saw him drink a bit much - at first - but it never became a crutch. Tony had danced the treacherous line before disaster before, and this time, the lean was in his favour. Tony was happy, and Rhodey was even happier for him. He was the anchor that he kept Tony going, the one thing he knew he could count on. In his own recovery, Tony was that for Rhodey too. They understood each other perfectly, and Tony was grateful. Grateful he'd kept living. And then he began to grow as a person again.

He'd helped the kid. It was complicated at first, he hadn't listened, or prioritised. It was new to Tony, his dad had done it to him, and he hadn't a clue what to do. Then the kid almost got himself killed, and almost given Tony a heart attack. All of those people put in danger. He'd known Peter was trying his best, and he'd also known it was temporarily his fault. He'd almost slipped that day. He didn't know what he'd do if something happen to him. _Better to keep him safe, and make sure that doesn't happen_ , he'd promised himself. And he did. Tony also got better at the whole father figure thing. Peter was a bright kid, and Tony saw himself in him. A fool would've passed up offering him a place as an avenger. Tony was so proud of him. But he'd been even prouder when he refused the offer. That was his kid, his Peter. Just a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

Tony had gone back to work. He had started inventing more, but at a reasonable amount. He'd balanced work, and friends, and the company, even Peter better than ever. He'd developed nanotech, and subsequently, his nanotech suit. While he felt as if he couldn't part with it (despite the fact he no longer relied on an arc reactor to keep him alive), it was still better. Better than the alternative. Better than his entire life up until that point.

A small part of him still ached for Steve. He still carried the phone with him everywhere, safely tucked in his pocket. Just in case, he thought whenever he looked at it. He was better, but Tony still yearned for him. He'd wished many times that their paths would meet again.

_If you need me, I'll be there._

If only it had been in a different way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that's it! The end of this piece. Truth be told, I was planning to bring this into the timeline of Infinity War. Perhaps a sequel for another time? I don't think my heart can take anymore angst at this moment. After some fluff I might think about writing. If there is anybody who want some to read it? Please comment if you do. Anyway, thanks for reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It's unedited and I wrote it all in one go so I hope it isn't too bad! Any comments are highly appreciated ^^


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